


Casualties of War

by AwesomePossum



Series: Guilded Days: A Bard of Ravnica [1]
Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Centaurs, Elves, Gen, Gruul Clans, Ravnica (Magic: The Gathering), Selesnya Conclave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomePossum/pseuds/AwesomePossum
Summary: As two leaders of the Selesnyan military survey the remains of a skirmish against invading Gruul raiders, they come across an unexpected find--and must decide what to do with it.
Series: Guilded Days: A Bard of Ravnica [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963186
Kudos: 3
Collections: Guilded Days: A Bard of Ravnica





	Casualties of War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamb/gifts).



Rearing up on his hind legs, Zuriyun threw his full weight behind the spear as he drove it into the snarling goblin. The creature’s body, though stocky, provided minimal resistance to the leaf-bladed head of the weapon as it plunged through muscle and innards and bone to lodge in the ground beneath. It let out a shriek like tearing metal, its horrible jagged-toothed maw gaped open from ear to ear, grotesquely wide. However, even run through, the monstrous little humanoid refused to die decently, instead turning its hideous mouth on the handle of the spear impaling it, savaging the metal-coated staff like a rabid dog. Broken-glass teeth grated against polished steel with a squeal as gobs of bloody spittle coated the haft of the spear.

Zuriyun shifted his hooves out of reach of the thing’s snapping jaws as it snarled and spat at him. The centaur’s lip curled with disgust.  _ Vile little monsters.  _

The Gruul were barbaric and goblins hardly more than feral imps. A Gruul Clan goblin like this one marked the perfect intersection of everything he hated, everything he stood against. These rebellious Rubblebelt savages were all a blight on the harmonious peace he envisioned, but none more so than scurrying filth like the one pinioned by his spear. Such a creature could never be trained nor taught nor convinced to put aside its vicious ways--putting them down was not only a necessity for the city in these troubled times, but practically a mercy to such an unenlightened brute.

“Sir!” 

Zuriyan turned at the approach of his second in command, Casda Selline. Despite the sweeping plates of armor covering the elf--fashioned to resemble leaves and bearing the Selesnyan crest--he moved gracefully, quiet even in the midst of battle. It was a trait Zuriyan appreciated; he had seen enough skirmishes where Casda moved like a shadow through the noise of combat only to take some wild berserker with his blade before it even knew the elf was there. His skill in battle and calm demeanor were a credit to the Conclave.

“Report,” Zuriyan said.

Casda tilted his head in acknowledgment. “The Gruul incursion is routed, heading west back toward the Rubblebelt. Should we break off pursuit and tend the wounded?”

Zuriyan looked at the surrounding wreckage. A few days ago it had been a teeming square of city blocks, centered around a marketplace overlooked by apartments and business fronts. Then the Gruul had swept through the area in one of their raids. Now it was a jumble of ruined buildings and broken stone walls, fires licking orange tongues out of broken windows like gaping black mouths. Even in the short time the Gruul had been here, they had already set up their primitive camps in the wake of the fleeing populace--the smashed remains of their yurts and tents lay scattered across the scene, cloth flapping listlessly and adding to the general air of destruction. In the places where they had made encampments Zuriyan could see the “spoils” of their conquests; jugs of drink and crates of food, bolts of heavy cloth and tarp, toolkits and medical supplies, all laden onto stolen carts... 

He gave a snort of disdain. All this wanton destruction, and for what? To squabble over such meager supplies?  _ No wonder they are nothing but savages--they can’t even provide for themselves without stealing and pillaging.  _ He shook his head, irritated not for the first time that such a rabble even called themselves a guild.  _ Selesnya _ was a guild, what a guild should be, a community bound by heritage and culture and shared values. These creatures--they valued nothing and they produced nothing of value. They were not a guild. They were aberrations clinging to scraps of archaic practices and meaningless rage. They were a blight, holding the world back from what it could be.

“They should all be wiped out,” the centaur muttered to himself.

“Sir?” He turned to see Casda looking at him, a tinge of confusion touching the elf’s normally composed face.

Zuriyun sighed, forcing himself to return to the matter at hand. “Yes. Have your men pursue the Gruul until they are well inside the borders of the Rubblebelt, and continue to engage. A message needs to be sent that forays into civilized territory will be met with the full might of the Conclave.” 

Especially when those forays took the Gruul within eyeshot of a Selesnyan vernadi, as this one had done. After ravaging the market of this unguilded district for supplies, the Gruul raid had been ranging closer to Vitu-Syra, one of the Conclave’s home trees. Not close enough to actually threaten the enclave, but close enough that an armed response was necessary. Personally, Zuriyun would have preferred that the Gruul kept their antics far away from the Conclave holdings--Ravnica insisted on allowing their abhorrent way of life to continue, and if they hadn’t been straying so close to the vernadi he would have been perfectly content to let Ravnica deal with it. While he was satisfied enough dispatching the horde of barbarians, he would rather not have dirtied his hands or his blade with them. He much preferred his life within the cultured woodlands and peaceful meadows of the parklands, ensconced by the Selesnya, where his position was properly respected and life followed a natural order. 

As it should be.

Still, if he had to leave the purity and sanity of the Conclave, he was at least doing a service by eliminating these creatures. He watched as Casda signalled to one of the younger commanders, a series of quick hand-motions and whistles instructing the man what to do, elegantly communicating the order to give chase and continue to harry their quarry. After today’s skirmish, it would be some time before the Gruul dared show their hideous faces outside the Rubblebelt.

A weak growling drew his attention. Looking down, he saw that the goblin he had speared was somehow still alive and fighting, albeit barely, still gnawing uselessly on the shaft of his spear. Blood welled freely from its throat, and the handle of the spear was painted red.

“It’s almost admirable.” Zuriyan turned sharply to look at Casda, who was watching the goblin’s struggles with a somber look on his face. “To see how hard even such a simple creature will fight to live, even though its life seems barely worth having…” Zuriyun narrowed his eyes at his captain, who shrugged. “There’s something noble about it, in a way. Everything just wants to survive to tomorrow. Even goblins. Even Gruul.”

Zuriyan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, only because it would be unbecoming a commander. While his second had many admirable qualities, he had always been mildly put off by the elf’s tendency to wax philosophical. Oh, it didn’t seem to interfere with the man’s commitment to his duty, but privately the centaur had always thought it belied a certain...softness, which he disapproved of. 

“Yes, well,” Zuriyun said, “it would happily have continued its nasty little life by ending yours, if it could have.” With a quick motion, the centaur twisted the spear in the goblin’s chest, ending its struggles with a final squeal. The wide-mouthed head flopped back, eyes already fogging with death. “No point in getting poetic about it.”

Casda’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, looking down at the corpse as Zuriyun yanked his spear free, holding the goblin’s body down with a large hoof like so much debris. “They are misguided, certainly,” he said slowly. “But even Gruul deserve our sympathy. Maybe especially so; the pitiful things are reduced to raiding and fighting over basic supplies like food.”

Zuriyun sighed as he began to pick his way through the rubble of toppled walls and weakly smoldering buildings, resigning himself to this discussion yet again. “Your compassion is all well and good, Captain, and I’m sure your dedication to our ideals commends you with the dryads. But as usual, you are just sugar-coating the truth. The Gruul willingly choose their short, squalid lives.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure,” Casda said with a frown, moving over the crumbled stone with an ease that Zuriyun found both impressive and enviable. “Maybe they live like this because this is all Ravnica has left them…”

“Casda, you are wasting your sympathy,” Zuriyun said, more annoyance slipping into his words than he would have preferred to reveal. “You need to accept that some creatures simply refuse to be helped.” A groan from a pile of toppled masonry; a human male with Gruul tattoos and a wild mohawk was attempting to claw his way free. When he saw the two Selesnyans approaching, anger stormed across his face.

“Domesticated traitors,” he coughed out, his words slurring. “High and mighty in your tree homes, you think you can beat us down?” He reached down to his side, partly buried in collapsed stone, and pulled out a roughly-made jawbone axe, struggling to bring it to bear. “The Gruul spirit will never be snuffed out by-”

He never got to finish as Zuriyun’s spear plunged through the top of his skull, cutting off his proclamation. The centaur looked back at his elven Captain. “You see? These mongrels would literally rather die than be helped to better themselves. And if they won’t be helped,” he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Casda, “then they will be  _ contained _ .”

Perhaps recognizing the hint of challenge in his superior’s voice that signalled the discussion was over, Casda placidly said nothing. But as they walked away, Zuriyun saw the elf glance back at the body in the rubble, frozen in death trying to lift his weapon to the last.

The two continued to walk down a thoroughfare now cluttered with debris scattered like caltrops; Casda stepping nimbly through the minefield of broken debris, Zuriyun more often crunching the trappings of Gruul and unguilded alike under his massive hooves. They found two more survivors of the Clans, one too far gone for anything but a quick thrust of Casda’s sword to her heart, the other a wounded but still active elf who slithered free of the remains of a cart and leapt to his feet with an axe in hand. It was difficult to tell, in the split second when he jumped upright, whether he intended to leap toward the pair to engage or away to flee. Zuriyun didn’t bother waiting, rearing back and throwing himself to the ground to create momentum for the launch of his spear, which buried itself deep in the tattooed skin of the elf’s breast. Battle was no place for hesitation--and it made little enough difference either way. He retrieved his spear and noted they were nearly finished sweeping the long main street. By this time the dark, silken hair of his fetlocks was coated in dust from the aftermath of it all, turning the silver-grey of his coat into something muted and dull. He stamped his hoof, watching the cloud of ash and grime burst loose, noting with mild annoyance the Casda, in the way of some of the elves, was as clean as ever. The centaur allowed the slightest rumble of impatience to bubble up in his chest. He couldn’t wait to get home and clean off the day’s corruption.

Casda suddenly lifted a hand. Zuriyun stopped immediately, turning to his captain as the elf signalled silence, then indicated they should listen for something off to the left. Zuriyun readied his spear in pointed Casda ahead, counting on his stealth to be able to take this enemy unawares. He swept his ears forward, pricking them in the direction the other man indicated. Casda was already picking his way over the great floes of stone left by a collapsed wall, working his way inside what used to be a storefront. Parts of the entrance were caved in, although whether blown apart by the Gruul or his own troops in the heat of battle, the commander couldn’t say. From what he could see, it looked like the Gruul had been nesting down in here like rats; he could see their beaten, scattered cooking implements and tatty woven mats through gaps in the cave-in. It was obvious he was too large to get inside the structure without a substantial effort to clear it, but Casda had already found an opening and slipped inside. Zuriyun didn’t tell Casda to be careful--if he’d needed to do that, he never would have appointed the elf his second in command--but he strained his ears as the other man disappeared into the ashen shadows. A sound reached his ears, and the centaur frowned sharply.

_ Was that...crying? _

There was the sound of scrabbling, of rubble and stone being cleared away, then the sound of bouncing rocks as Casda carefully climbed back out of the ruins. Zuriyun was shocked--he virtually never heard Casda move--but as the elf emerged back into the light, heavy with a coat of ash and dust, it immediately became clear.

Cradled in the elf’s arms was a young centaur. Her body was tan with dark sable, and striking white stripes streaked across her legs and hindquarters like bolts of lightning. One of her hind legs was hanging outward at an unnatural angle, and he could see a messy fracture just below the hock. Her face was buried in his neck, pressed into the leather gorget of his armor, but as they started the treacherous descent over the mountain of mortar, she lifted her head to look down at the path. Her ears were enormous soft dishes, swiveling wildly, and behind a veil of thick, dark lashes her large eyes were wide with fright. Her hair and tail, roughly chopped as if trimmed by knife, were a wild, honey-colored tangle like an untamed thicket--but Zuriyun could see bits of polished stone and bone and painted wood strewn throughout, like the cast knucklebones of a hag’s oracle reading. Blue lines of woad were drawn across her face, now dry and caked like plaster, and her forearm was bound in a wide, braided leather bracelet, closed with a latch of polished turtle shell.

_ Gruul. A Gruul child.  _ She was very young, likely not more than four years old, but even so he shifted his weight away from her, filled with a stir of conflicting feelings... 

Casda was moving as gently as he could, deliberately picking his way down the slope of skree, but the centaur, young though she was, probably weighed nearly as much as the lithe elf and it was impossible for him not to occasionally rock off balance. Every time he did, the centaur’s leg swung slightly, and she gave a stifled sob into his breastplate. Otherwise she was nearly silent, her whimpering as soft as the susurrus of sparrow wings. He knew what was happening, knew that the Gruul trained the children from infancy to be silent if a raid went wrong, like deer keeping their fawns hidden in the tall grasses while they drew off predators. Tears streamed down her face, but only when her leg was jarred did she make a noise. A young centaur, nearly silent in the face of a shattered bone. A child choking back cries of pain. A child who would one day be a raider. A barbarian. A savage.

Gruul.

Casda reached the street and was able to regain his balance, stepping cautiously to avoid jarring the injured leg. “A support beam fell on her, had her pinned down,” he said quietly, keeping her close against his chest as one would hold a rabbit or kitten. “It’s a good thing she gave in and made a noise--she never could have moved it herself, and she probably would have died of thirst or shock before anyone found her in this mess.” He looked down at the centaur, who had buried her face under his chin, hiding. “Brave little thing though… You know, she actually tried to bite me when I first came in?” He chuckled lightly, shifting his hand to pet her untamed frizz of hair.

Zuriyun wasn’t laughing. He was thinking.  _ Only a child, and already so aggressive--already groomed to grow into a brute. _

Casda looked around, oblivious to his commander’s heavy brow furrowed in thought. “We should get her to the healers, patch her up. Once she’s okay to walk, we can take her back to the Rubblebelt, return her to the camp-”

“No.”

Casda turned to look at the centaur, startled. “No?” he repeated, confusion evident in the elf’s green eyes. “Sir, we have to get her to the healers before she goes anywhere; that leg is clearly broken-”

“We  _ are _ taking her to the healers,” Zuriyun said, his voice as heavy and unyielding as the stone all around them. “We’re not returning her to the Gruul.”

“What?” Casda said, clearly taken aback. His gaze shifted, searching his commander’s face. “I...I don’t understand-”

“If we return her to these monsters, she will become one of them. We may well end up killing her a dozen years from now in a skirmish like this one--or she may end up killing our own. This is an opportunity for her to be free of such a fate--a chance at a better life.” he looked up at Casda, squarely meeting the elf’s gaze. “The Selesnya will provide her with that life.”

“But...Sir, her parents…”

The centaur made a sweeping gesture. “Do you see them here now? No. They could very well be dead for all we know.”

“There were no centaurs among the dead,” Casda said through gritted teeth. “Especially any that looked like this; I would have remembered them. You can say what you like, but we both know they are almost certainly alive and wondering where their child is-”

“Who they abandoned!” Zuriyun barked, using his size to loom over the much smaller captain. At his outburst, the girl shrank down into Casda’s hold, making herself small as she clutched at the edges of the elf’s leaf-shaped pauldrons. 

Casda pulled her closer, unmoving as the centaur towered over him. “This is wrong,” he said quietly, his voice tight.

“Is it?” Zuriyun answered. “Look at her--she’s barely old enough to talk, and she’s already been in a battlezone and been grievously injured. What do you really think is waiting for her in the future, Captain Selline?” Casda winced at the sound of his title, an address Zuriyun only use when he was truly angry. “Do you think she will have the opportunity to find her gifts, to contribute something meaningful to the world, to know joy or peace? Or do you think she’s going to end up dead under a pile of burning debris like the refuse we cleared on the way up here?”

“That’s not the point,” the elf snapped, although he sounded less sure.

“That is  _ exactly _ the point,” the commander said, his face and words unrelenting. “We have a chance to take her back to Selesnya, to offer her a lifetime of harmony and security and all the glories of the guild. I am not going to throw that away and hand her over to the Gruul--regardless of her misfortune to be born to them. She is young enough to escape the fate of these miserable creatures, and I am not going to condemn her to the life of her parents and her people.” He gave Casda a hard, stony look. “And neither are you.”

“Sir, I can’t do this,” Casda said, shaking his head.

Zuriyun reached out, almost paternally, and placed a large hand over the elf’s shoulder, pretending not to noticed how the girl flinched away from his grip. “Yes you can, and you will. Don’t you see, Casda?” He looked down at the girl, who was hiding her eyes from his, and gently stroked her hair. “This is for the greater good. For the Conclave and for her. We can prove all your philosophies are correct: that even Gruul can be remade, and come to embrace the way of Mat’Selesnya. That Selesnya can offer redemption for all…” He patted her head. “Even her.” 

Casda looked up at him. “But her parents,” he whispered, and Zuriyun was disappointed to see the faintest glimmer of tears in the elf’s eyes. He kept his face impassive.

“Her parents are dead,” the centaur said firmly. “This is for the best--the way it has to be.” He straightened up. “Do we understand each other, captain?”

A long, long moment stretched between them, and the commander felt a brief wash of worry that the elf would say no. But then Casda’s shoulders slumped, and Zuriyun knew that he had won--even before the captain, eyes turned away, gave the barest of nods. 

“Good,” Zuriyun said. “Now, let’s get her to a healer, and start her life as Selesnyan with all the benefits we have to offer.” He turned and began walking back the way they had come, toward the rearguard and the Conclave. After a second, he heard Casda’s dejected steps as the elf reluctantly followed him.

“What’s your name?” the commander heard Casda ask the girl. After a brief silence she gave her response, her voice so high and soft that he didn’t catch it.

“What did she say?” Zuriyun asked without looking back.

“Enikari,” Casda answered, not bothering to raise his voice. Either he knew the centaur would hear him, or he didn’t care. Zuriyun ignored the slight insubordination. Casda would come around eventually, when he saw how different the girl’s life with the Selesnya was than what might have been. She could prove everything the elf was always saying, about how the Selesnya offered a path to becoming your best self, no matter what you were born to--he wouldn’t be able to say anything after that. Now, the captain just needed time to accept it.

“Enyikara?” the commander called back. “No, that won’t do. We’ll give her a proper Selesnyan name.”

“You’re going to change her name?” The centaur could hear Casda frowning, and didn’t bother to look back to confirm it.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, “a new name to celebrate a new life. It seems fitting.” he paused a moment, rolling her old name around in his mind, letting his thoughts polish all the rough edges off of it and make it smooth like a river stone. 

“What about...Yenna.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the origin story of my primary OC for this collection, Yenna Callavyr. I've said before that I think the Gruul are interesting and that their potential was really wasted in the canon story to date, and I love the Selesnya (I like to think that if I found myself on Ravnica, I could live the life of a unrealistically optimistic hippie, because frankly it's going great for me in the real world). They are two guilds who are, in theory, very similar, but are ferociously separated by the yawning gulf of small differences...to me, that's very interesting, and I thought it would be a good foundation for a story. I've always liked thinking about how the guilds would interact "on the ground", with individual members who interpret their Guild's ideals and philosophies differently, and this felt like a great place to start.


End file.
